


The Sum of my Heart

by fishydwarrows



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hades and Persephone AU, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Romance, dont worry ill fix it later, flowers used for non-specific and specific gay purposes, ice is a thing, its fun, lmao i just like writing in current tense, lmao makkachin has 3 heads, lol yuuri is angsty, mulan style cutting of the hair, non beta'd because i cant wait a day, poetic???? i guess, poetry references bc im a prose hoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:29:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8770006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishydwarrows/pseuds/fishydwarrows
Summary: Victuuri-there's flowers, its gay:“Death will snatch your child from their cradle. It will come into your house and cut your throat. Death is cunning and a cheat. Truly, the most evil of all the Gods.” Such words often clutched at Yuuri's silent heart, cutting deep into his mind.Hades and Persephone AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first victuuri fic lmao,, i got tired of seeing fanart with yuuri as persephone so i took matters into my own hands lol
> 
> Title loosely based off a line from an Emily Dickenson love poem
> 
> Thanks to my beta Cinna!! I love them so much!! 
> 
> Please leave a comment. I thrive on them, and it would be cool to wake up to some nice words tomorrow!
> 
> Drop an ask in my inbox if you wanna talk about the fic! :D
> 
> http://fishfingersandscarves.tumblr.com/

Let it not be said that Death is cruel. 

 

Too often had Yuuri heard slander on his namesake; tales spat out like curses from the tongues of the cruel and weary. “Death will snatch your child from their cradle. It will come into your house and cut your throat. Death is cunning and a cheat. Truly, the most evil of all the Gods.” Such words often clutched at Yuuri's silent heart, cutting deep into his mind. But, when Yuuri comes for them: old, young; he unravels the strings of fate and carries the scraps close to his chest. Then back to his sanctuary, deep beneath the Earth, to set the thread free into the winds of time, forever remembered, forever lost. 

 

There is no company in the dead, and Yuuri knew it very well.

  
  


The day Yuuri saw Life was long before the first foot of Man had touched the Earth. Then was a simpler time, of collecting the threads of flora and fauna. Before there was slander to his name and darkness in his heart. He had come aground, for what reason, he forgot. Yuuri saw between the trees silver hair, shining in the newly bright sunlight. The hair disappeared, and Yuuri followed and the bushes his palms brushed blackened as his dark raiment trailed behind him. At last Yuuri found him. The silver haired figure stood alone in a meadow and at their feet flowers grew. Yuuri looked down in sadness at his own feet, the grass about them had withered and died, their silver threads of life floating into the air softly like feathers. He caught them and placed them carefully in his pocket. He turned his attention back to the figure, and found them weaving flowers into a heavy crown. Dew speckled and bright, the figure placed it on their head carefully, and began to dance in the meadow. 

 

Surely, if Yuuri had breath, it would’ve been stolen away. The figure’s movements were fluid and eerie like a lake’s surface on a moonlit night. Their expression, what Yuuri could see of it, was almost wistful. To him, at least, they looked lonely, a solemn creature expressing its sorrow in movement. He felt like he was intruding. It struck Yuuri then that their hair was the same color as the threads in his pocket: of life. Something sparked in his breast, a warm feeling, like running water or chirping birds in spring. 

 

Yuuri’s heart began to beat. 

 

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He took a step back and in his carelessness broke a dead branch on the ground. The sharp snap of wood pierced the air. The figure turned swiftly, catching him in their gaze. Yuuri stilled, and felt fear and embarrassment grip him all at once. 

 

He shouldn’t be here.  

 

He shouldn’t. 

 

Yuuri was gone before they could utter a word.

  
  


It continues and his heart beats when it shouldn’t. Yuuri ventures up from the ground and shakes the Earth, leaving blackened ground and dead air wherever he goes, just for a glimpse. He learns their name: Viktor. He watches and waits, never uttering a word, gone before the silver haired man can speak. 

 

Yuuri tells himself he doesn’t mind but that’s a lie, for what does Death yearn more for than Life? 

  
  


He spends hours above ground, but the world dies around him and Yuuri cannot bear to do such a thing, especially to Viktor’s flowers. He notices it one evening, blooms where another day he once stood. They are small and white:  _ Sweet Alyssums  _ he thinks they might be, but cannot be sure, for nothing grows in his kingdom of the dead. He stares at them and considers. 

 

Surely it means something?

 

But no, he cannot think such thoughts. Life is not meant to court death. Life is bright and beautiful, Death, cruel and unforgiving. Yuuri knows how people regard him and he knows that Viktor will do the same. He glances at the flowers once more and reaches for the nearest bud. It withers between his fingers.

 

“Yes,” Yuuri thinks, “Death is not meant for Life.” 

 

He returns, and remains alone.

 

The flowers reappear, but Yuuri does not. As time passes human life evolves, and where there is life there is death. Yuuri collects more and more threads as the decades pass yet he is stuck. The dead pass on, a thing Yuuri could not- cannot do. No matter how much he might wish it. All is quiet. He sits alone in the dark, a cup of water in his hand. It freezes slowly, the temperature is too cold here, in the vast underworld. Yuuri watches the water swirl into ice and is struck with an idea. 

 

“Water cannot die,” he thinks, “Nor  _ ice. _ ” 

 

It is a foolish thought, one he would never act upon, and yet. Yuuri thinks of Viktor, that figure of sunshine and Life dancing in the meadow. He could do the same. He could dance on ice. It takes him forty five times before he surfaces again. Time and time over, his nerves get the better of him. His raiment of darkness encircles him and crowds close and he stares at the stalactite ridden ceiling of his chamber.

 

Yuuri thinks, “They’re almost like icicles.”

 

He takes a breath- unneeded really, for he can’t breathe- and begins the long walk above ground: his heart an echoing drum of unease and anxiety. At last, Yuuri rose to the surface and he was once again in that same wood where he had seen Viktor many a millennia ago.

 

The forest quivers at his presence and Yuuri considers leaving: turning into shade or dust and drifting away; but, what little confidence he has sparks within him. He would do this, at least. He does not travel far, there is a lake close to the forest and it is isolated enough for his comfort. Yuuri kneels down and looks into the surface of the water. What looks back is the same sad creature he has always been, and to his knowledge: always will be. He touches the water, it freezes almost instantaneously, his body being colder than the most freezing blizzard- not that he feels cold. The ice is a cool mirror and shines in the moonlight. Yuuri wraps the darkness about him like a shroud, it clings tight to his body and moulds into elegant blades about his feet. 

 

He takes a tentative step forward onto the ice. 

 

-

 

The first time Viktor saw Death he could not comprehend them.

 

He had gone to the wood to think, that was all. He had been wandering, thinking of what Yakov had told him, about bringing more life into the world: not just flowers and wild things.  _ People,  _ his Elder had called them. Viktor walked through the forest and felt a chill. 

 

“Odd,” he thought. The sun was out and it was shining strongly, he assumed it was the breeze. 

 

Viktor walked through the wood, sprigs and flowers growing from each step. Soon he found a meadow, it was spacious enough. He knelt down for a moment, his palms deep in the Earth. 

 

“Humans… People...” Viktor muttered.

 

With the mud and grass he sculpted a little figure, much in his own image. Viktor smiled to himself and summoned new blooms from the Earth. Swiftly, he wove a small crown for the figure and then one for himself. 

 

“Yes,” he thought, “It would be good to have company.” 

 

With his thoughts seemingly lifted, Victor began to dance. He was content at first, but the sun seemed to him not to shine as bright, and the air had taken chill once more. Viktor looked to the mud figure; it stood still, neither living nor dead, just existing. Viktor often felt the same, his expression grew cloudy. An echoing  _ snap  _ broke him from his melancholy thoughts. Viktor swirled around, and there half-hidden by a tree was a dark cloaked figure. Their face, what Viktor could see, was somewhat pale and pudgy, and their cheeks seemed to grow hot under his gaze. Viktor's heart shivered under the cloaked figure's gaze. 

 

He felt  _ something.  _

 

Viktor opened his mouth to say something, but the figure turned inward and whisked themself away into the air like smoke. 

  
  


The figure returns, and so begins something that Viktor can only describe as a game. 

 

He waits for them to come. Sometimes it's days, sometimes years, but they appear. Viktor plants seeds in the ground where they tread; the blackened earth becomes bright with flora: white, yellow, orange: innocence, joy and enthusiasm. The language is that of flowers, and Victor doesn’t know if they speak it. 

 

He hopes so. 

 

Oh, how he hopes. 

  
  


He learns their name soon after that. 

 

“Yuuri” Yuri tells him and pouts. Viktor laughs and pats the nymph on the head, gratified to know his mysterious watcher’s name. 

 

“I don’t know what you’re thinking.” Says Yuri, playing with the fronds of a fern.

 

“Playing with  _ Death _ .” He shivers in the pale sunlight and glares at Viktor. 

 

“It’s not right.” 

 

Viktor tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear, “Perhaps…” He mutters softly, “Perhaps…” 

 

Viktor comes to recognize the signs of when Yuuri arrives. A sudden chill, a seeming absence of light, and strangely enough, the smell of pine. However, the visits become less and less as the decades pass, and Viktor wonders if he’s done something wrong. To Viktor, the days become bleak and flowers do not bloom as they used to. He feels...lonely. It startles him when he realizes it, his flowers become less vibrant, he never dances; all he sees are people,  _ people  _ cutting down his trees and killing his plants. He regrets Yakov’s suggestion and he berates himself for being so foolish, but it is too late. They live, they die, they destroy. In a rash train of thought he decides to destroy something of his own. Perhaps it was foolish, but he does it. 

 

One night, he pulls his silver locks out far and shears them. Viktor watches them float away in the breeze, the hairs glow softly and disappear into the air, again one with the earth. He feels a weight lift from his shoulders and feels the world breathe.

  
  


Of course, it is night again when he finds Yuuri again. It had been so long since he had felt the comforting chill of his presence. Viktor follows it excitedly, sensing a culmination of something, a moment in the making. He breaks away from the wood and at once sees him. Yuuri glides across ice, his body weaving and twisting in the night air. The motions are familiar… Viktor realizes its  _ his  _ own dance, the one he had done so long ago when they had first seen each other. Viktor is close enough to see Yuuri close his eyes as he skates, for gods do not need vision. Viktor has a thought, an urge to skate out to him.

 

“What is the harm?” He thinks. 

 

He walks forward and behind him trails thousands of pink and red flowers that seem to glow in the night. 

 

Viktor takes a step onto the ice and he feels a  _ belonging.  _ Something he has not felt for a long,  _ long  _ time. 

 

-

 

Yuuri steps on the ice and breathes.

 

There is no rhyme or reason as to why, only the night air, the moonlight, and the hard ice under foot. Tentatively, he glides around, without purpose or real thought. Then, he closes his eyes and lets darkness envelop him. In his mind he sees him, Viktor, shining and bright, dancing in the meadow. Yuuri copies his movements, hands moving in tandem with memory. Somewhere deep he wishes, to not just watch but to dance along: fingers intertwined, hearts as one, for since that day, his heart beats. But, he knows he has no chance.

 

Slowly, his thoughts lead to darker things: oblivion, loneliness, solitude; all the same in the end. Yuuri takes no joy in his work; Death takes and takes and takes, he knows this well. Glistening threads swim in his vision, taunting him with thoughts of Life and vitality. The silver strings twist and knot in his mind, coming round his throat to form a bright noose. It tugs tight in his mind and pulls, but instead of the pain and grief he expects, there is warmth. 

 

Something-  _ someone,  _ wipes away a tear. He had not known he’d been crying. There is silence and yet, the strange figure continues to skate with him.

 

Yuuri squeezes his eyes tighter and thinks: “It’s no use to hope anything… Why should I kid myself?” Yuuri refuses to be hopeful. He pushes off the side of his skate and jumps, and reluctantly opens his eyes. 

 

In the moonlight, he sees Viktor. 

 

Yuuri gasps and falls.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HoLY FUCK episode 10 has got me shook 6 days later. Second to last ep tomorrow...i am not ready... 
> 
> On a different note!! Thank you guys so much for such a positive reaction!! I think this has been the fastest response to a fic I've ever posted!! I'm very thankful and I hope you continue to enjoy my story! :D
> 
> Again thanks to my wonderful beta Cinna! You didn't beta this chapter, but that's okay <3
> 
> Also!! All the illustrations in this fic are my own!
> 
> Please drop a message in my inbox on tumblr if you wanna talk about the fic! And if you wanna make something for it I track the tags #tsomh and #the sum of my heart OR just tag me! :D
> 
> Again! Thank you for reading!! And please, PLEASE leave a comment!

Yuuri collides with the ice, his mind, too distracted to mould himself into smoke, searches frantically for answers.

 

Why is Viktor here?

 

Yuuri sits on the ice and watches dumbly as Viktor skates over, a concerned look on his soft features.

 

“Are you alright, Yuuri?” He says, and extends his hand.

 

Yuuri stares.

 

His hair, Yuuri notices, is almost short beyond recognition, with bangs just covering one of his piercing blue eyes. Moonlight outlines the god's figure, and the flowers about his shoulders take on an ethereal glow. Viktor frowns.

 

“Yuuri?” Yuuri starts and grabs his hand.

 

The difference in temperatures is beyond obvious to him. Viktor's hand burns him like fire, and he feels Viktor shiver ever slightly.

 

“How do you…” Yuuri begins, he pauses looking down at the hand in his.

 

Should he let go?

 

He doesn’t.

 

“How do you know my name?” Viktor chuckles softly, his voice like the tinkling of bells.

 

“With how many visits you’ve made, I should know your name, no? And you know mine?”

 

“Yes! O-Of course I do, but…” Yuuri gulps down the blush that rises to his cheeks.

 

“Viktor… Why are you here?”

 

Viktor grins.

 

“To see you of course!”

 

Viktor starts to skate backwards, still with Yuuri’s hand in his, and Yuuri has no choice but to follow.

 

“You’ve been avoiding me for so long now, and you always seemed interested in my flowers...I want to learn about _you_ , Yuuri!” He pulls Yuuri close, their bodies mingled in Yuuri’s shroud of darkness. There is a heat, some kind of spark between them.

 

“But… Death is not meant for Life” Yuuri says, at this point, only repeating the words he’s told himself for centuries. A red flower blooms behind Viktor’s ear and he leans in close.

 

“Perhaps…” he purrs, “But, who’s to say? Do not all things live and die?” Yuuri shivers, but not from any cold.

 

“You really want to learn about me?” Viktor nods enthusiastically.

 

“Well, you could…” Yuuri searches in the moonlight for answers. No one has ever asked to be with him, to learn about him so openly. He feels at a loss.

 

“What could I show him?” He thinks desperately. He looks down, the shadow of his raiment puncturing the light.

 

“Home?” He says.

 

Viktor looks at him perplexed.

 

“You could come home with me.” He rephrases, pushing down the deep blush that burns on his skin. He remembers then that he still holds Viktor’s hand, and the other hasn't let go.

 

“Uh! But, not in some weird way! Just for a little bit!” Yuuri waves his hands frantically and Viktor smiles.

 

“Alright!” He squeezes Yuuri’s hand. “And you must come to my home!” Yuuri stumbles at that and begins to fall, the darkness about him sweeping out in a wave. He shuts his eyes and waits, but never falls. He opens his eyes, Viktor caught him. Yuuri hears the staccato beats of his heart. They push and pull in his chest like waves. He blushes.

 

“H-how long?” Yuuri says, not really aware of the words coming from his mouth.

 

“He wants to stay with me?” The phrase resonates in his mind, echoing in the dark shadows of his limitless subconscious.

 

He never dreamed. Never hoped. Only during the blackest nights, for such a thing. And yet, here he was, unbidden but not unwanted. Still holding Yuuri’s hand and smiling like the Sun itself lived in his body. The darkness around Yuuri swirls and coos, the cold shroud a clear contrast to the brilliant hues of flowers about Viktor’s body.

 

Yuuri finds himself staring.

 

Just _feeling_ the warmth at his fingertips.

 

“-about three months?” Says Viktor, and Yuuri snaps from his reverie.

 

“What?”

 

“Come stay with me for three months, and I'll stay with you for the same time!”

 

Yuuri is silent, not sure what to say, but he feels, _knows,_ if he says no, he’ll regret it.

 

“Alright” He says, and smiles.

 

-

 

They stay together for a long while after that. Basking in each other’s presence and just _talking._

 

Viktor has never felt more enthusiastic about anything else.

 

The lake, long since melted, laps against their feet as they chat.

 

Viktor gazes idly at Yuuri’s soft figure. The god is dark in the moonlight, almost like a shadow. His raiment billows and shifts about him like smoke, ever changing as Yuuri speaks. There is beauty in the motion, a certain fluidity that Viktor has never seen before. It delights him.

 

Sadly, the moon sets and the sun begins to rise, and so does Viktor. Though, he is remiss to leave so soon.

 

Yuuri stands and darkness billows from beneath his feet.

 

“Well,” Yuuri begins, gazing softly at the clear morning sky, “I suppose this is farewell for now.”

 

He pauses, and takes a breath, “We can begin some other day, and I can go if you want me-”

 

“Stay.” Viktor takes a step forward, coming close into Yuuri’s space.

 

“You said you’ll stay with me for three months, and I you. Why not start now?”

 

Involuntarily, vines and flowers begin creeping up from the earth about their feet.

 

The sun shines down on Yuuri’s dark hair and Viktor thinks it’s beautiful.

 

Yuuri agrees.

 

-

 

It begins like that.

 

Yuuri arranges with Phichit, the god’s messenger, to instruct some demons of the undead on how to collect the threads. He worries, but not for long, for there is so much to see.

 

-

 

The first day, Viktor grabs his hand and runs with him through the forest. Gaily pointing out chrysanthemums, poppies, roses, and all the different flowers he created over the millennium.

 

Yuuri is worried at first, scared to kill the grass he treads upon. The beauty Viktor put his heart into. But, Viktor assures him it is alright, and as they run, where blackened grass follows Yuuri, there is a seedling sprouting root.

 

-

 

The second day, Viktor decides to bring Yuuri back to the lake.

 

“But, this is just water?” Yuuri says, squinting at the lake's surface, trying in some way to discern the meaning from it.

 

Viktor chuckles.

 

“Yes, this is _just_ water. But, you forget. There are more living creatures in the deep than mortal eyes can see.”

 

Viktor drags a hand over the surface. The lake shimmers and shines like stained glass. Viktor watches Yuuri startle in amazement at the fish and algae below.

 

“All this?” He asks, eyes wide and clear. “All of this lives in the water?”

 

“Of course.” Viktor smiles.

 

“There is life in the sky, earth, and sea? You collect them, do you never look?”

 

“No…” Yuuri said softly, “I never did” Yuuri glances at the water and smiles.

 

“Thank you for showing me.” Viktor feels his heart skip.

 

-

 

It continues like that.

 

Everyday Viktor takes Yuuri somewhere new and unexplored. He revels in Yuuri’s fascination, his delight in the brightness of living.

 

Everyday Viktor falls in love anew.

 

-

 

Yuuri learns more than he ever thought he would of the world.

 

For so long he has lived in it, cared for it, and tended its dead, but never truly observed. The cascading waterfall, the sound of rustling leaves, birth.

 

It stays with him.

 

He wishes to remember it always.

 

-

 

On the fifthteenth day Yuuri gifts Viktor flowers.

 

They wilt in his hands and grow black and dull in his grip.

 

It shakes him.

 

He had forgotten.

 

_He had forgotten._

 

Viktor takes the flowers and they return to color, not yet dead. Yuuri shudders and Viktor hugs him close. It is lucky that they are gods and cannot die.

 

Yuuri embraces Viktor tight.

 

They are lucky.

 

-

 

Yuuri’s smiles brighten, for not even the darkness about him can outshine it. They run together during the day.

 

Viktor teaches him the names of flowers and their language.

 

Pink for romance, red for love.

 

Viktor weaves a crown for him, bright, undying and made from metal as a favor from another god.

 

At night, they count the stars and reminisce about their stories and origins. Under the moon they whisper together, holding hands in the darkness.

 

Incredibly hot and cool, together: equal.

 

-

 

The days grow into weeks and so too grows their affection. There is no more hesitation, no more tentative words between them. Only the gentle rustling of winds and chirps of birds. Yuuri feels his heart beat every day.

 

Then comes what Yuuri dreads.

 

He must leave the peace of the forest ; travel down beneath the Earth and rejoin the ranks of the dead in his duties to the dying.

 

Yuuri sat beneath a willow tree and Viktor slept at his side. He twined Life’s thread between his fingers carelessly. He had been making a chain from them, a simple woven thing to be worm about the wrist.

 

Yuuri twirled it about his finger and thought.

 

He knew in his heart of hearts that it was time to leave, a god’s promise is not easily forsaken and he had indeed spent countless nights and days with Viktor at his side.

 

However, the three months were up, and it was now time for Yuuri to take flight.

 

But, as Yuuri gazed at Viktor’s sleeping form, he felt hesitance.

 

Their bliss had awoken something in him.

 

A soft feeling, like the first rays of sunlight at dawn or the warmth in Viktor’s smile.

 

Surely, Yuuri loved him.

 

“Death does not deserve Life.” The thought flashed through his mind and Yuuri clenched the bracelet tight. It shimmered in his hand and flashed in the sunlight.

 

“But,” thought Yuuri as he smoothed the hair out of his love’s face, “ _We_ deserve happiness.”

 

He looked around at the meadow, some parts black from where he had walked, but soon overgrowing with flowers.

 

Yes.

 

He wanted it.

 

Oh.

 

Oh, how he wished it.

 

But, he is the god of the dying, and there is nothing more lonely than Death.

 

Carefully, he fastened the bracelet about Viktor’s wrist.

 

A promise.

 

-

 

When Viktor wakes, Yuuri is gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnnnnnd here's the last chapter!! Thank you so much to everyone who's stuck around for this fic! 
> 
> Thank again to Cinna!! <33 and to everyone who's bookmarked and kudos my fic! I appreciate all of you guys!! 
> 
> I decided to finish this fic before ep 12 on wednesday for many reasons,,but essentially, i offer the finished version of the fic as a coping mechanism after YOI is over. Do with it as you will!
> 
> Good mood music for the tone of this fic: La Parfum de Fleurs a YOI OST
> 
> Again, all the art is my own! and please drop an ask in my askbox if u wanna talk about the fic! my tumblr is http://fishfingersandscarves.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you again!! And please comment!!! It would make my day if you did!!!

The world shakes. 

 

Then wilts. 

 

The everlasting green of the Earth dims in his gloom. Once beautiful flowers lose their lustre. Viktor remains under the willow and stares at the bracelet, unseeing. The world exists like this: hollow, just-living. For no matter how much Viktor grieves, he is not so cruel as to let the world die. Not purposely, at least.

 

He laughs bitterly.

 

What work he has made for Death! There is irony in that, he is certain. 

 

Yet he remains in the meadow, under the tree, thinking. Planning. The bracelet shimmers on his wrist, pulsating with Life. 

 

Viktor knows Yuuri loves him. 

 

Yes. 

 

He loves him. 

 

Yet they cannot remain together. But, a god’s promise is  _ not _ easily broken. 

 

Yuuri promised him home. 

 

Yuuri  _ promised  _ him. 

 

Viktor stands. 

 

Shaking off the dry leaves and dead twigs, he knows what he must do.

 

-

  
  


The Underworld is a dark place. Darker and lonelier than he ever expects. It reeks of death, mold, salt, and pine. 

 

Viktor’s bare feet pad across the cool earthen floor. Flowers and grass trail behind him; growing and dying almost in the same instant. Nothing can live long among the dead. 

 

Yet, he spies a small garden: secluded but for a single pomegranate tree. The fruits are large and deep red, an immediate contrast to the maudlin darkness about him. 

 

Yakov's voice echoes in his mind.

 

A warning. 

 

“If you eat from the Underworld you must stay as much as you consume.” 

 

Viktor pockets one of the pomegranates. 

 

“For luck” he tells himself. 

 

“For luck.”

-

Yuuri sits on his black throne and sighs. 

 

His heart aches.

 

It still beats, but the pulse is weak and painful. He longs for Viktor. But, the three months are up. He worries, death has become more frequent in the recent month. Yuuri shifts in his seat and stares at the dark ceiling. 

 

The cavern is silent and empty.

 

Lonely. He raises a hand to his temple and shuts his eyes. 

 

“It was for the best” he tells himself. 

 

His brow furrows and his heart aches.

-

Viktor continues through the winding maze of the Dead. 

 

The Underworld is vast and countless. Many a time, Viktor espies a translucent figure in the dark, not quite solid and shimmering like rippling water. Entwined in their breasts are small threads like the bracelet about his wrist. 

 

They do not notice his comings or goings.

 

Perhaps they are somewhere else entirely. 

 

Soon he reaches a river. It is large and black; four other streams run into it, creating one long murky mass. 

 

He knows them.

 

_ Acheron.  _

 

_ Cocytus.  _

 

_ Lethe.  _

 

_ Phlegethon.  _

 

_ Styx.  _

 

Each tributary glows in the darkness.  _ Styx,  _ the largest, houses a boat at its banks. 

 

Viktor strides towards it, hands involuntarily fondling the pomegranate in his pocket. 

 

-

 

“It was for the best” 

 

Yuuri chokes out a sob and clenches his eyes tighter.

 

Slowly, he wraps the darkness about him and drifts into the air.

 

-

Viktor sails across Styx, and the moans of the dead follow him. 

 

At last, he reaches the shore and finds himself facing giant stone doors. He places a hand on the cool stone and looks up.

 

He pauses. 

 

“Am I being foolish?” Viktor thinks. 

 

His hand still rests on the door, bright and warm, worlds different than the dark stone. Viktor thinks of Yuuri. His smile. His curiosity. His love. Viktor’s gaze wanders to the bracelet, the threads, thin as hairs, shine and hover about his wrist almost cloud-like. 

 

“He is worth everything.”

 

He pushes the door open.

 

-

 

He finds the room empty, save for a single rain cloud. It is dark and water drops down to the dead earth in buckets. It smells of pine and Viktor feels a deep chill in his bones. He climbs onto the lonely black throne and reaches a hand up to it. 

 

“Yuuri” he breathes, and everything he wants to say is flooded with emotion. 

 

The darkness dissipates and Yuuri collapses into his arms. 

 

“Yuuri” Viktor repeats, softer and less controlled.

 

The pomegranate in his pocket weights down and grounds him. Yuuri holds Viktor tight and his entire body shakes with his sobs. 

 

“You shouldn’t be here” he gulps in air like a dying man.

 

“I made a promise” Viktor says. He kisses Yuuri’s temple softly. 

 

“ _ We  _ made a promise.”

 

“I-I didn’t want to keep you from what you love” Yuuri cries into his neck. Viktor runs his fingers through Yuuri’s dark hair. 

 

“ _ You  _ are what I love.” 

 

They hold each other for a long time after that.

 

-

 

Later that day, Yuuri lays on Viktor’s lap while the other rests, and contemplates in the evening dark. The room shines around Viktor, but he notices that the edges of the flowers about his chest are not as bright as they once were.

 

In his heart, he knows Viktor cannot stay. 

 

The Underworld would not kill him, but he would diminish in the darkness. As much as Yuuri selfishly wants him, the world needs Viktor. 

 

The world needs Life.

 

He sighs and shifts, curling close to Viktor. 

 

“Let me have this,” he thinks, “for as long as it lasts.”

 

-

 

In the next set of days, Yuuri shows Viktor the winds of time. 

 

It is a bright room. 

 

The brightest in the Underworld, and the warmest. Yuuri gathers up the threads in his palm and holds them out, fist balled tight. He pauses and looks at Viktor. 

 

The look on his face is that of anticipation, and Yuuri has never been more in love.

 

He doesn’t want to let go. 

 

The threads drift through the air and scatter into the breeze. Viktor watches them silently; then, he takes Yuuri’s hand and squeezes it tight.

 

-

 

The nymph arrives first. They are small and spritely, with maple leaves dripping from their hair and body. They scowl at Yuuri. Viktor had gone to the river, saying he had “a surprise” for him, and had left Yuuri alone. The nymph jabs a finger up at Yuuri and their scowl deepens.

 

“You stole him.” They say, and wood sprouts at their feet. 

 

“The world is dying because of you.” Yuuri is silent, and slowly he pushes the nymph’s finger out of his face. 

 

“I did not ask him to come.” He says. (Though he knows that that is not entirely true.) 

 

“Lies” the nymph spits.

 

“The longer you keep him here, the more deaths will occur. Does that satisfy you? You are cruel, if so. You are indeed the most evil of the gods.” 

 

The nymph disappears, and Yuuri releases a shaky breath.

 

He knew this would happen, but so soon? 

 

“No,” he tells himself, “I must not regret this. If they wish to know me as the god who stole Life from the world then so be it. I will be the most hated. I will.” 

  
  


Viktor returns sometime later, and with him is a small pup born with three heads. 

 

“Makkachin.” Viktor announces, “A companion for the both of us!” 

 

He beams at Yuuri, and Yuuri smiles softly. 

 

Yes. 

 

Let him be hated. 

 

He would not trade Viktor for the world.

 

-

 

Phichit arrives second, and it is Viktor who notices him. 

 

He had been feeling his pocket wherein the pomegranate sat; ever ripe and red from the constant presence of Life. Yuuri stands from where he had been lying at Viktor’s side. 

 

“Yuuri,” Phichit says, his wings fluttering like a hummingbird in flight. 

 

“Yakov is getting angry. The mortal’s crops won’t grow and they die in droves. Surely, you’ve noticed?” Viktor looks to Yuuri, gripping the pomegranate in his pocket. Death’s face is unreadable, but he answers. 

 

“Yes, I’ve noticed.” 

 

“Then you know you must return him.” 

 

“I cannot.” Yuuri looks at Viktor softly, and Viktor swallows heavily. 

 

“I made him a promise. I gave him three months.” Viktor says. 

 

Phichit sighs. 

 

“I see...I’ll do what I can. Yakov can be placated, but not for long...Please be cautious.” Yuuri and Viktor nod and look at each other as Phichit flies off.

“We’re running out of time, love.” Viktor chuckles: there is sorrow in his eyes. Yuuri smiles sadly, 

 

“Then let us run from time until it loses its breath.” 

 

They clasp hands and lean in close; their foreheads touch and there is peace between them for a moment.

 

-

 

They spend even more time together after that, sometimes not even doing anything; just, together. They share gentle kisses in the dark of Yuuri’s bed, together they are made warm. (Viktor notices the bed is way too large for one person on their own, and he thinks about Yuuri, all alone for millennia on end. His heart tightens.) 

 

They cuddle with Makkachin, whose three heads nuzzle close for comfort during the dark days and even darker nights. (Sometimes Viktor feels fatigued and knows his flowers are wilting here. When it does happen, he looks Yuuri in the eye, no matter how hard it gets. Yuuri must know why he’s here. He must.) 

 

Late one night, Yuuri whispers “I love you” into Viktor’s chest.

 

The next day, everything about Viktor blooms anew. But, there are subtle reminders that Yuuri is needed and that Viktor is neglecting. The little things, the souls of children, wheat, flowers, and trees that were meant to grow and live during this time of year. Viktor’s heart aches for them, but he does not relent. 

 

He’s made his choice. 

 

There is no going back.

 

-

 

Viktor sits alone in Yuuri’s bedchamber. 

 

Yuuri is out collecting threads with Makkachin as company. Viktor pulls out the pomegranate from his pocket and stares at it. 

 

He knows, if he does this, there is no going back.

 

He searches and finds a small knife and bowl. He holds the pomegranate and pauses. 

 

“Death belongs with Life” he says to the air. “One cannot exist without the other.” 

 

He cuts deep into the fruit and its red juice paints the curve of the bowl like fresh blood. Carefully, he cuts out three seeds; they are rich, dark and red things, almost like holly. The seeds stain his skin as he grasps them in his hand. 

 

“No turning back.” He mumbles. 

 

Viktor swallows the three seeds swiftly. An instant chill raids his bones, and his radiant aura shivers for a moment. The air, he notices, now smells deeply of pine and salt. He drops the rest of the pomegranate in the bowl and slides it under the bed. 

 

What’s done is done.

 

-

 

Finally, as expected, Yakov comes.

 

There is no grand entrance, no shock of lightning. He just appears out of the air in front of them. Viktor starts and accidentally pulls Yuuri’s hair from where he had been combing it. They stand and face Yakov’s glare.

 

“The three months are over, Vitya. It’s time.” Viktor takes Yuuri’s hand and squeezes it tight. Yuuri squeezes back. Yakov scrutinizes Viktor and his eyes widen. 

 

“Viktor… Why did you?” Yakov begins. Yuuri looks at Viktor questioningly. 

 

“Three months of every year.” He says softly. “He gave me three months, and I him. We do not wish to be apart.” 

 

“Viktor….what do you mean?” Yuuri asks. “I will go with you. But, you know, I am bound to this place, and bound to him. Let him come with me to the surface for three months once more. I know it will be pain to be apart from him, but I will bear it,  _ if  _ you let this pass.” Yuuri cups Viktor’s face. 

 

“Viktor, what do you  _ mean  _ bound?” Viktor smiles. 

 

“To eat from the Underworld is to stay there, no?” 

 

Yuuri’s eyes widen. 

 

“You mean, you….Viktor….I don’t want you to live in pain.” 

 

Viktor mirrors Yuuri and cups his cheek. 

 

“To be without you is pain. I love you. Don’t you see?” Yuuri smiles in spite of himself. 

 

Yakov looks between them. 

 

They are joined hand in hand and gazing at each other like they’ve hung the moon. 

 

Life and Death. 

 

There is no separating them for they have found each other. 

 

Yakov sighs. 

 

“Alright.”

-

The months pass and Viktor tarries in fields alone. About him flowers rise. 

 

Soon. 

 

They seem to say. 

 

_ Soon.  _

 

-

 

At long last, the smell of pine pervades the air, and Viktor hears the light paddings of paws on the cavern floor. 

 

Death has come to meet him. 

 

Yuuri breaks into a run and collides into Viktor’s outstretched arms soundly. 

 

They kiss, and ambrosia blooms from the dead earth. 

 

“Welcome home.” Yuuri says softly. 

 

Viktor beams.

 

-

  
Let it be said that Death is loved, and Life is loved in return.


End file.
